The Biggest Risk (The Whisper Lake Series Book 3)

by Anna Argent

  "No, but I hate to see him wasting his time, money and effort on a lost cause."

  Bonnie squeezed Doug's hand, offering him comfort. "People are never lost causes. That girl is someone's daughter. If she needs a job, then I applaud Nate for giving her one."

  "A job is fine. Let's hope that's all this is."

  "You're going to talk to him, aren't you?" she asked.

  "Absolutely. We may not see eye-to-eye on real estate investments, but he's still my son. I'm not going to stand by with my hands in my pockets while he makes a mistake he can't take back."

  "Now who's meddling?" she asked, teasing.

  "Sweetheart, I could spend all day, every day, putting my nose firmly into our children's business and I still couldn't come close to your champion skills."

  She laughed. "That's the sweetest thing you've said all week."

  He winked at her. "They're lucky to have you as their mom."

  "I'm not sure they'd agree, but it's nice of you to think so."

  He took a deep breath. "Okay. Last but not least is Flora."

  Bonnie shrugged. "I think she's good. She's worried about her brothers, and she works too much, but the diner is going well and she's happy. I mean, I wish she was pregnant with twins, but other than that, she's doing great."

  Doug shook his head, but he was grinning. "You and your imaginary grandkids. I swear you have a one-track mind. How about you let the girl find a husband before you impregnate her."

  "Spoilsport."

  Chapter Seven

  By the time Nate's shiny white truck pulled in, Hanna was finished with half of the top floor, intent on working her way down.

  Even with all of the few remaining functional windows open and a faint breeze blowing through the house, the heat up here was stifling. Sweat soaked her hair and dripped from the end of her nose. She wiped it away with a damp, gritty arm and kept going.

  After so many days of being cooped up in Rex, the work felt good. Her muscles ached and her hands were sore from picking up rough chunks of plaster and splintered lath. At least she'd had the gloves to keep her from cutting herself on the nails and broken glass littered about—even if they were way too big for her hands.

  They fit Nate, though, and the thought of having her fingers where his had been seemed acutely intimate somehow.

  She heard Nate call her name, so she poked her head out of the nearest window. "Up here."

  He lifted a giant foam cup in each hand. Even from here she could see condensation beading up along the surface—proof that whatever he was carrying was ice cold. "Brought drinks. Come on down."

  The thought of icy liquid had her scrambling down the cluttered steps and out into the bright sunshine. Last night's storms had cleared out, leaving behind blue skies and white billowy clouds rising in tall plumes that promised the chance for more storms later today.

  She didn't know where the lake was in Whisper Lake, but she could smell it nearby, all green and faintly fishy. Above that was the earthy scent of manure and wildflowers blooming in the pasture across the street.

  Cattle grazed lazily, sticking mostly to the shade under a strip of trees that bordered a creek. Two new babies slept curled up like puppies, their mamas taking turns watching over them.

  There were a few houses scattered out here, but none of them close enough to invade the bubble of privacy this place created.

  That was probably why the kids had chosen it as party central.

  Nate had parked under an oak tree in the shade. The tailgate was open and he stood leaning against it. In his hands was a plastic package of baby wipes.

  "Thought you might want these," he said. "Now that I know you're not afraid to get dirty."

  She gladly took the offered wipes and cleaned her hands and face of as much sweat and grime as possible.

  At least she didn't have to worry about him coming on to her looking like this. Or smelling like this.

  "Hope you like sweet tea," he said, offering her a drink.

  "I'd like anything cold and wet at this point. Thanks."

  She took the drink and sucked it down until her head screamed from the cold.

  Nate laughed. "You look positively wilted."

  "That's a very polite way to say I look like a wet rat and smell like a donkey."

  He nodded. "I was raised to be a gentleman."

  "How'd your work go?"

  He grimaced. "About as well as I expected. Getting a business loan these days isn't as easy as it used to be."

  She eyed the old Victorian. "She's worth it."

  Nate shook his head. "The money isn't for the house. I've already got that set aside. This is for something else. Something big."

  She wanted to ask what, but it seemed intrusive, so she held the question back. As it was, she was reeling from the idea of having enough cash to do the work this house was going to require. Nate was a lucky man to have those kinds of funds.

  "Well, I hope it all works out," she said.

  "I'll make it work." There was no arrogance in his tone, just a simple statement of fact, as if he could inflict his will upon the world with enough time and effort.

  She drained most of the tea, then slid her gloves back on. "Thanks for the drink. I'd better get back to it."

  "It's too hot up there for you to be working. Besides, it's getting late and I want to make sure you're settled in before nightfall."

  "I already peeked in the garage apartment. All I need is a place to wash up and a bed—the bed being optional."

  "What about dinner?"

  "I'll ask Declan if he'll drop off my cooler after work. It's full of food, so I'm good."

  "I'd rather take you to dinner." Nate's green gaze pinned her in place. He was so damn handsome, she nearly forgot that she was no longer interested in men.

  But handsome or not, she had to set him straight. She was done making mistakes. Her life was too much of a shithole for her to bend her rules even a little.

  No men. No new friends. No more contact with her family.

  She was a shiny new creature determined to create a shiny new life. All she needed was Rex and a chance.

  "I appreciate the offer," she told Nate, "but I need to stop you right there. I'm not going to date you. I'm not going to sleep with you. All I'm going to do for you is work. If that's not enough, then tell me now so I can figure out my next move."

  He was silent for a long minute, then nodded. A flicker of disappointment crossed his features before it was replaced with that charming grin. "Okay. That's fair. And probably for the best. As hard as you work, I'll count myself lucky to have you as an employee, no matter how brief a time it may be."

  He stuck out his hand, and Hanna shook it.

  It was then that she realized her mistake. He'd given her a chance to touch him, and she'd jumped at it. No thought. No hesitation. Just that instant need to please him.

  That had always been her downfall. She'd learned the art of pleasing her man from Mom—no matter how bad for her that man might be—and had yet to break the habit.

  She pulled her hand away from his and slid the glove on before she could make any more mistakes. "I'll work until it's too dark to keep going and start again tomorrow as soon as it's light enough to see."

  "You don't have to work that many hours," he said. "I'm not a slave-driver."

  She lifted one shoulder, feeling it ache at the movement. "You need the job done and I need the money. Besides, I'll be cooped up in Rex again before I know it. I'm enjoying the fresh air and exercise."

  "Suit yourself," he said. "I'll check in on you in the morning. Can I get you anything before I go?"

  She shook her head. "I have everything I need."

  Chapter Eight

  Nate had made it all the way back to the motel before he realized that he'd forgotten to give Hanna something.

  He'd picked up a prepaid cell phone so he could get his back and catch up on whatever calls he'd missed today. A few people had tracked him down in person, but he was c
ertain there were some who hadn't.

  He was just about to turn around and head back to the Yellow Rose when he saw his dad sitting in his SUV, under the shade of a giant walnut tree at the end of the motel parking lot. He was on his phone, his expression serious, almost grim.

  Nate suffered a moment of panic, wondering what he'd missed while away from his phone. Had something happened to Grandad? Mom?

  He slammed his truck in park, jogged across the parking lot and opened the passenger door.

  "I'll speak to him," Dad said. "Thanks for calling."

  Douglas Grace was at the end of his fifth decade, with thick black hair that had only recently begun going gray at the temples. His face was angular and sturdy looking, with as many smile lines as those attributed to stress. Mom had always called him handsome, but to Nate, he was like a magician, showing his sons what they'd look like in twenty or thirty years while at the same time, showing the world what Grandad had looked like that many years earlier.

  The Grace family resemblance was strong, especially in the eyes. Nearly every Grace child born had the same pale green eyes that Douglas had, and those he'd inherited from his father before him.

  Right now, Dad's eyes were filled with worry.

  "What's going on?" Nate asked as his dad hung up. "Is everyone okay?"

  "I tried to call you."

  "I'm sorry. I didn't have my phone handy. What's going on?"

  "It's your brother, Mason. Did you know about this?"

  "About what?"

  "What Diana did."

  Nate shook his head. "I haven't talked to Mason in days. Maybe a couple of weeks." Now that he thought about it, he hadn't seen his oldest brother around much at all. He hadn't worried too much about it since Mason was a total workaholic. The man often went for months without taking a single day off. "What did Diana do?"

  "She stole from him, and if your mother is to be believed, broke his heart."

  "Diana?" Nate asked, shocked. "They're not together anymore?"

  "Apparently not for a while."

  It wasn't like Dad to get involved in things like this. Mom was the one who took care of splinters and broken hearts. As a small-town doctor, she was naturally more compassionate, and far more tolerant of gossip than her husband.

  Which made Nate wonder, "Why are you here? Is Mason okay?"

  "We don't know. He's not returning calls. No one has heard from him. Have you?"

  "I didn't have my phone on me today. I've got someone working at the Yellow Rose. She doesn't have a phone and I didn't want her to not be able to call for help if something went wrong."

  Dad's mouth tightened. "Please tell me she's not another project."

  "I know you don't think that house is going to make a profit, but I—"

  "Not that house, the woman," Dad said.

  "She's stranded in town while her truck gets fixed. She has no money to feed herself. What should I have done? Let her sleep in her truck and starve?"

  Dad let out a slow, quiet sigh. "Son, I love that you want to help people, but you can't take in every stray that comes through town. You know how much of a meth problem we have around here. Chances are she's a junkie looking for enough cash to get high."

  "You sound like Flora."

  "That's because your sister has a good head on her shoulders."

  "Hanna isn't an addict."

  "You don't know that."

  "What happened to helping those in need? You and mom preached that to us from the time we were born. The Grace family is blessed. It's our duty to share that blessing. Help those less fortunate."

  "Not if it means giving someone the tools to hurt themselves more."

  "At least meet her before you go casting judgment. Or ask Declan or Flora. They've met her."

  "Are you getting romantically involved with this woman?"

  "That's none of your business. I love you, Dad, but I'm a grown man. You don't get a say in my love life."

  "I didn't have a say in Mason's either, and look how that turned out." Dad ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. I'm just worried about him. I'm sure this girl is fine. I don't mean to take it out on you."

  "I'll help you find Mason. Have you talked to Saxon?" His two older brothers were close in a way Nate envied. If Mason was in trouble, it would have been Saxon he called, not Nate.

  "He said that Mason is fine and that we should give him some space to work things out," Dad said.

  "Then why don't you?"

  "Because your mother is beside herself, convinced that he's curled up in a ball somewhere, weeping hysterically over his loss."

  Nate grunted. "Have you ever known Mason to do anything in hysterics? Or cry, for that matter."

  "Not since he was four. Not even when Grandma died."

  "Then leave the man alone, Dad. Give him some time to deal with things in his own way. If he needs you or Mom, he knows where to find you."

  Dad shook his head, suddenly looking older and more tired. "Knowing one of you kids is hurting and not doing something…it's more than I can stand. I need to fix it." He pinned Nate with a knowing gaze. "You should understand that better than anyone, even if you don't have kids. You're a born fixer. It's why you can't let those old buildings fall down, and why you can't walk by a woman in need without getting involved."

  Nate was done talking about this. He'd done right by Hanna, and no one could tell him otherwise. Not Dad. Not Flora. Not Mom. In the end, he had to walk with his conscience and hold his head high. If he'd left Hanna on the side of the road in the rain, or watched her go without food, that wouldn't be possible.

  "If I hear from Mason, I'll be sure to let you know."

  "Is that your way of saying you're done with this conversation."

  "And then some." He flashed a brief smile. "Love you, Dad. I'll see you at Grandad's birthday party, okay?"

  He got out of his dad's SUV and got back in his truck. The whole ride back out to the Yellow Rose, his mind worked on the puzzle of Diana.

  She'd seemed like such a nice girl—completely devoted to Mason. They'd been together for two years, and everyone was expecting an engagement announcement any day.

  Apparently, they'd all been wrong.

  He'd text his brother later and try to make contact. Chances were Mason wouldn't respond to him, either, but he still had to try.

  Like Dad said, Nate was a fixer, and he couldn't stand knowing his brother was in pain and not trying to fix it.

  By the time Nate reached the Yellow Rose, the sun was just starting to dip below the thick, green canopy of leaves. There was enough cleared pasture out here for him to see the rolling dip and swell of the low Ozark Mountains. The day had grown hot and thick, but they weren't yet in the worst heat of summer, when even the bugs were too hot to do more than lounge around in the shade.

  As he pulled into the ravaged driveway of the old Victorian, he saw Hanna heading back up the porch steps with an empty trash can in her hands.

  Even covered in grime and sweat, she was sexy as hell. All those luscious curves made to fit a man's hands called to him. Her hair was still bundled high in that messy bun, hiding her locks under a layer of dust and broken bits of plaster. The sway of her hips as she mounted the stairs made his pulse speed and his skin heat.

  She'd made her position clear in a way he had to respect. No dates, no sex, just a job—that was all that connected them. Still, disappointment clashed uncomfortably in his chest, beating the stuffing out of the acceptance he should have felt.

  She wasn't going to be here long, and he wasn't the type to have a fling. He preferred the depth a longer relationship could bring. Not to mention the sex was way better once partners knew what each other liked and how their bodies best fit together. Why should he deprive himself of great sex simply to have mediocre sex with more women?

  This was a concept he and Declan still argued about frequently, but in that good-natured way of brothers—or cousins who were as close as brothers, at least.

  The last curvy
bit of Hanna's calf disappeared into the house before Nate was able to drag his thoughts away from sex with her and focus on what he needed to do.

  He grabbed the prepaid cell phone and headed inside.

  There was no electricity on in the house, leaving the inside a gloomy collage of shadows compared to the bright light outside.

  Nate stripped off his sunglasses and headed toward the scraping shuffle upstairs.

  He found Hanna bent over, her ass on lovely display, as she scooped up an armload of debris from the floor. The plaster and beer cans landed in the trash can with a dusty thud.

  As she bent over again, he knew he should have looked away or at least announced his presence, but instead, all he could do was stare at the shape of her ass, the way the round curve tapered to sleek thighs and firm, toned calves.

  The urge to strip her cotton shorts down and uncover the secrets they hid was almost uncontrollable. He didn't know what it was about her that turned him on so completely, but it was potent and fast, hitting his blood like liquid fire.

  He was hard—unbelievably, uncontrollably hard. His poor cock didn't realize that she was off limits, or that they'd decided that there was nothing more between them than this job.

  Or, rather, she'd decided and he'd agreed.

  He knew he was a fixer. He knew he'd often chosen the wrong women simply because he felt like they needed him. He also knew that not one of those relationships that had started with such good intentions had ever ended well.

  His family was right. It was time he quit trying to rescue or fix women and found one who wasn't broken.

  With that thought in mind, he scraped his gaze away from Hanna's perfect ass and beautiful legs and focused on a crack in the ceiling.

  "I brought you something," he said.

  She yelped and turned around, her gloved hand pressed to her chest. "You scared me."

  "Sorry." He held out the plastic sack. "I got you a prepaid phone so I could have mine back."

  She eyed the bag as if it were filled with live snakes. "I don't need it. And I really don't want you buying me things."